


The least proper way to eat

by AdynDtrio



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Javert Survives, Brick!vert does what he wants, Established Relationship, Food Kink, Kitchen Sex, M/M, Post-Seine, Rape/Non-con Elements, Valvert Gift Exchange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-05
Updated: 2013-09-05
Packaged: 2017-12-25 14:06:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdynDtrio/pseuds/AdynDtrio
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The worst way to do with your ex-pruner partner when you're French and have too many snails in your garden.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The least proper way to eat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tetsugoushi (gitalee)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gitalee/gifts).



> Beta: @Javert1832 (I owe him forever due to he didn't sent me to Toulon) and Windy.  
> For the second round of the Valvert Gift Exchange, prompt #44 : “Escargot. Something about escargot. Because they are French. Non-con preferred”
> 
> erm, not really non-con, but I've tried.  
> I don't know anything about cooking or eating escargot, except the fact that you should eat it with a tong and fork, which Javert doesn't care. That's how the title came.

Valjean had just come back from the market when he found Javert in kitchen, wearing Valjean’s apron over his usual attire.

He had his back turned toward to the ex-convict and was busy munching at the counter. The mouth-watering scent of melt butter and herbs fills the room. A cooking recipe was wide open nearby a bowl which contained some meat. It should be normal, but at the second thought he notices something really wrong. Meat shouldn’t move. He steps closer and frowns at the realization.

"Javert, how come there is a …snail bowl here?"

The inspector pushes the knife point on the chopping block, turns back and pretending to consider the question, before answering dryly. “Perhaps they rained from the sky?”

Used to Javert’s antic and his sense of humour, Valjean caught on his meaning easily enough; there were some snails in their garden since he had planted a grapevine. The pruner in him had been annoyed by them at first, but since gardening became his hobby instead of job, he saw no reason to kill them. “They do no harm!”

"Not when we have so many that I tread on them in every step!" Javert points the knife toward where the vine located, drumming his free hand’s fingers annoyingly on the recipe pages. While Javert’s claim sort of hyperbole it still rang true and Valjean ought to agree with him 

Javert continues impatiently. “You didn’t even try to get rid of them. Swear to your god you were a gardener.”

The good gardener opens his mouth in objection. Javert, rolling his eyes, plants a snail on Valjean’s nose to shut him up, ignoring the fact that the snail seems too frightened to present itself and falls silently to the floor. It is of course not the way to cow him but Valjean steps back and rubs his nose nevertheless.

Both pairs of eyes meet then move down to the dropped snail. Valjean reaches it first, picking it up, and draws the bowl closer as if he’s afraid that Javert might throw all of them to the pot at any minute. “If you don’t mind, I’ll think of a better place for them.”

Javert reacts with a smirk and a dangerously raised eyebrow, yet doesn’t even cross Valjean’s leg while he passes by. Looking backward, Valjean should know better than that.

Getting rid of the sticky snails from the bowl causes him come back later than it should have. Valjean enters the room expecting to cook again. But there the oven is left open. Javert is just setting a plate on the dining table, still holding the knife. Melted garlic butter smells stronger around him. Being in a daze and at a loss for words, Valjean admits he doesn’t expect to see the second snails dish at any rate.

"Appetizer is ready." Javert informs him, taking one up to sip by the shell nonchalantly as if not at all bother by its hotness. 

After a moment’s silence as Valjean watches him dissentfully, Javert licks the sauce away, wiping his finger on the apron while he detours to confront his own convict, slowly cornering him on the other side of the table. He then invades Valjean’s personal space, topples him down onto the table and presses his wrists back behind his head with the same hand. 

The pinned ex-convict sucks in a breath when the knife stabs into the table a few inches away from his left ear. “Javert,” he tries.

"As I said, we have too many snails," Javert explains dryly as he reaches out for the escargot plate, re-positioning himself. Now he is standing between Valjean’s legs, straddling him over after successfully spreading his legs with a knee. Their abdomens almost touch through the trouser’s fabric and the apron’s folds. Valjean takes a deep breath, tenses but doesn’t jerk away. He is still a stronger man by far, yet he had learnt the hard way not to protest against Javert’s acts.

"Here, try it," He shoves an escargot into Valjean’s mouth; harshly enough to cause some sauce to drip down on his chin. Javert tugs the shirt open with another hand, before groping through the scars. The movement causes more sauce spills. His tongue licks them away and laps a line down to the other man’s throat. Valjean feels hot breath on his neck through the rough whispering, which makes his cock twitch without his own permission. "You have two choices, Valjean, suck it or suck my cock."

Playing safe, Valjean lifts his head to swallow from the shell. It is easy to consume as the meat had been removed once and placed back, although it should be eaten by a fork, in fact. The shell is still hot but the inspector seems to have no problem holding it. He tastes the firm texture covered with butter and garlic, and then licks away the left flavor on those fingers. His eyes flicker up to Javert, a fine chef by the way, and meet some gleam in those pale eyes, which is he considered could be either the eyes of successful hunter to his prey or of the lover to his spouse. It seems apparently that Valjean could never escape that gaze.

The inspector waits until Valjean has swallowed, then bends down to kiss him, long and thoroughly. His skillful hand palms at Valjean’s crotch, causing a soft moan to escape from his lips. Javert smirks, drops the empty shell and lets it roll on the table without any more concern. He moves the appetizer dish away, just in case.

The shells of the remaining escargot jingle against each other in the plate. “If you are obedient enough, you may have your reward”

"Is this supposed to happen right now?" Valjean chokes a shuddering breath in the midst of panting as he is unbuttoned. Javert is familiar to him, it is true, but not in this manner. Not when the daylight hasn’t yet faded away and he feels embarrassed to bare himself although Javert had already seen him at his worst. "You know I prefer night."

The idea of postponement makes Javert squint. “I’m tired of your bargaining.” He retorts in a dangerous growl. A touch of old anger mingles in his calmness and rises into the sharp tone at the last words. “How many times you ask me to remit and release things? Ask me to let you go again, Valjean, I dare you.”

"Javert, I…" The mentioned man’s one hand still clenches on both of his wrists, but another, which is at his crotch, shoves the trousers down in a rough tug, finds and arouses him with firm strokes. The ex-convict squirms, grasping his officer’s other hand helplessly.

"Save your excuses," He groans, withdrawing his hand to throw the apron away and unbutton himself, before reaching for an olive oil bottle. It belonged in the kitchen indeed and Valjean didn’t notice when it was settled on the dinner table, maybe since his last outing.

"You had prepared it," Valjean gasps for breath. Too limp to push his inspector away, even his wrists are released. His cock is left straining and heavy on his stomach as he almost, unwittingly, rocks his hip up, begging for some more attention. Javert doesn’t seem to be in hurry, but nonetheless the heavy breath and the hardness against his tight reveal his urgency.

The inspector doesn’t lube himself right away, but gazes all over scars on his chest. Valjean crimsons. Could that gaze be considered that humiliating if the embarrassment is arousing him like this?

"Indeed. Pity that the extra virgin joke doesn’t work." As he is speaking, Javert moves two oily fingers lower, sliding inside and making Valjean groan. It isn’t gentle; he never expects that from Javert by the way. He covers his sight with a hand, can’t bear facing himself in those powerful pale eyes. What a heat. Are they flaring with anger or desire? Or even both? He can’t specify anymore.

The inspector pushes his covering hand away. Valjean wriggles fruitlessly to avoid his eyes, which only makes Javert’s fingers press further, spreading the oil inside. His cock betrays him by starting to leak. “Javert, please, be kind.”

"What kindness you’re asking for? To stop? To go on harder?" Javert smirks, slowly withdraws fingers, lifts both Valjean’s legs onto his shoulders and lets his own cock nudge at the entrance patiently. His hands grab hold of Valjean’s hips. It’s hard to control himself though. It takes the time for which one’s breath can be held until his prisoner writhes and begs in wanton.

Without any warning, Javert plunges in. The thrust is rough and burns, causing his own back to arch up. Valjean won’t admit that his entire body welcomes it willingly but he is sure that he couldn’t stop. Both of his hands grip onto the inspector’s shirt and he realizes that he screamed when he was entered.

The man above bends down. Hot breath falls against his temple as Javert nibbling harshly on his earlobe, affixes bruised kisses on his neck and chest. Valjean’s thighs are shaking, no, it’s his entire body that’s shaking and clenching helplessly to his hunter. He found himself starting to thrust back. Soft breathless moans which are supposed to be the inspector’s name keep falling from his lips. It is only prayer he can think of right now.

"You will learn," Javert mutters huskily. His nose is brushing on his prisoner’s white beard as he presses a kiss on his jaw. The empty shell on the table rocks sharply, mimicking their motions. Even the stuck knife seems to quiver in some nudges. There is the long moment in which Valjean is lost in ecstasy before he can collect himself to catch the next word. It was a long pause, he thinks blurrily, but the words are connected to the previous discourse. Apparently that their movement causes Javert the same. "Not to behave against my purpose, whatever it is."

"I-I had, god, already…" Valjean gasps, reddening down through his throat. He is almost there. The trembling sound he utters summons a smirk, curving up on the inspector’s thin lips. He tries to wrap his arms around the man above, but an abrupt touch at the sensitive spot makes him moan and grabs onto Javert’s back collar instead. The claws scratch out his lover’s nape accidentally then slide down to the inspector’s back, holding him closer to kiss. Some slight vibration of low chuckles is against his body as well as seductive breathy whispers against his ear.

“And my lesson is hard for you, isn’t it?”

That’s such a madness. The breathy voice causes double meaning, whether Javert meant to say or not, and it suits the scene too well and it’s too much. Valjean’s control slips away as he feels the spasm beginning, and when the referred hardness thrusts into him again, he spills over his stomach. It takes more several thrusts to reach the final, where Javert spends himself inside and fills him with thick release.

When Valjean comes back to reality, he doesn’t even remember what sound he made. The inspector is still panting hard atop him. For a while that they didn’t move. Then Javert slides out slowly, letting his own seed drip down onto the table. Javert place his hand on him again. Valjean’s softened cock twitches slightly when Javert draws up all his length to drain down to the last drip.

"…I had promised you my second choice," Javert murmurs, pulling him up to sit. Valjean’s appearance isn’t in the least proper; naked below the waist, but his shirt opened tattered and baring the scarred chest, wetted by a line of his own come.

Valjean nods in recalling. Hands still dinging on the other man’s shoulders nervelessly, his breath is not yet steady when he rests a hand on Javert’s nape and bows him into a long, sweet kiss. “Later, then.”

"You always postpone things." His tone is lower in warning. The warned man wraps arms around him, leaning head on his chest, feeling the other man’s heart beating through the shirt fabric.

"I know, but the escargot might be too cold by now."

The inspector raises an eyebrow, then chortles, before kissing his own prisoner again quickly. He peels those hands on his shoulders away and reaches out for the knife, which is stuck upright the table. It left a small scratch where it was stabbed. “Clean the mess. I’ll join you in minutes.”

**Author's Note:**

> I feel sorry for every snail I killed. also desperately hope you will like it.  
> by the way here is the art: http://adyndtrio.tumblr.com/private/image/59600955855/tumblr_ms962qwUY01sp6ab5  
> (how can you put the link-able text instead of only link?)


End file.
